


Ignominy

by taskemus (bossy)



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003)
Genre: Alphonse is going through a very late puberty, Blow Jobs, Edward is a terrible brother, Edward is an abuser, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, One-Sided Attraction, not for people with a rape kink, you are expected to identify with alphonse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-16
Updated: 2014-10-16
Packaged: 2018-02-21 09:14:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2462825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bossy/pseuds/taskemus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Al wakes up forgetting, expecting his limbs to be bulky and hollow. And for a few blissful seconds the sensations are like new, and he gasps and shakes his brother awake. Then the fog clears and he remembers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ignominy

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published on LiveJournal, 01/01/07.
> 
> I'm a survivor and I have the right to write about rape and incest in a negative light.

Al wakes up forgetting, expecting his limbs to be bulky and hollow. And for a few blissful seconds the sensations are like new, and he gasps and shakes his brother awake. Then the fog clears and he remembers, remembers how long he has been like this, remembers the way Edward has begun to look at him, a predatory leer, remembers the strained silences between them. He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to will himself back into his dreams, but Edward is awake all the same.

“What is it?” Ed asks, rolling over; he blinks open his watchful eyes and scans over Al’s body as he speaks.

Al pulls the blanket tighter over his chest. “Nightmare,” he says, speaking quietly to the wall, and his words couldn’t be farther from the truth.

“Oh,” his brother says, and for a second a wave of empathy, familiarity, passes through his golden eyes. “About mother?”

“I dreamt that I was in the armor,” and at least this isn’t a lie.

“Al, I - I’m sorry.” He leans over and his wrist brushes Al’s thigh, so close that Alphonse can feel his hot breath on his cheek. “If there’s anything I can do. . .”

Ed is looking into his eyes again – another thing he hates about having a human body, how he is forced to show emotions, forced to let his thoughts flow through his face, with absolutely nowhere to hide – and, because the touch to his leg must have been accidental, because his brother means everything to him, Al holds the gaze as well as he can.

“You could let me get some sleep,” he says, finally, with a tentative laugh. And as Edward smiles and pulls him closer, wrapping him possessively in his arms, Al fights the urge to wrestle free from his grip, to move to the opposite side of the mattress, far away from his brother’s hawklike gaze. To get up and flee from this room, this house, altogether.

“Al? You’re shaking.” Words whispered between light kisses to his ear, his temple, his cheek.

Alphonse makes no reply, and hopes fervently that Edward takes him for asleep.

He tries his best not to scream when the touch comes to his lips.

-

There are some things about having this body that take getting used to. Taste, for example – every food tastes too strong, too overwhelming even without spices. There are foods he likes and foods he dislikes, foods that he is allergic to, foods that hurt his teeth when he bites into them, even foods that are poisonous.

And then there is the problem of hormones. It’s something he had never thought of before, a problem he had never considered when wishing for his human body. He had never known how sudden, how strongly it would come on – no one had thought to tell him before, all assuming someone so strong, so tall, would certainly know these things – and he is finding himself dreading Winry’s visits because of it.

It isn’t as if she actually touched him, this time, but she had taken her jacket off, revealing a low, black top that he had never had problems with before. But today he couldn’t stop himself from imagining what lay underneath, and that is how he finds himself like this, hard in the upstairs bathroom.

Winry is still downstairs, and Edward, but Al unzips his pants all the same, reaches out his shaking hand – he can hear them talking, Winry’s cheerful laugh, his brother shouting something – they’re making just enough noise that if he lets something slip, no one should be able to hear it. That, at least, is a good sign.

And suddenly the entire world is Alphonse’s beating heart. He gets up, closes the window shade further, sits back down – Winry is laughing again, and he imagines her as he moves his hand, slowly at first – the sound of a door slamming closed, the lock on the front door turning – faster now, and he closes his eyes and lets the sensation overwhelm him. Footsteps climbing up the stairs, “Al?”

He freezes, takes a deep breath to even out his voice.

“Alphonse?” his brother repeats, and the footsteps travel closer, resounding off the wooden floor.

“I’m in the bathroom,” Al replies shakily, and he can’t help moving his hand just a little, can’t stop the moan that escapes from his lips.

There is a sharp, distinct gasp from the other side of the door.

And then: “I know what you’re doing, Al.”

His heart is beating so loudly he can hear it echoing in his ears, like a thunderous drum – those must be the worst six words Al has ever heard, and for some reason he feels as if he is going to cry.

“N-no you don’t,” he squeaks in reply, closing his eyes in a futile effort to rewind time. Maybe Edward will believe him, maybe.

“Then let me in.” A proud quality to his brother’s voice he has never heard before, almost as if this is funny to him, as if this is some kind of personal achievement, and he has barely opened his mouth to form a reply when he hears the metallic click of the bathroom door opening, and then his brother is inside the room.

Al shrinks back, covers himself with his hands – oh, but that feels good – and he bucks his hips despite himself, feeling a warm blush creep up his face, and this is so much worse than mere embarrassment.

He stands up, to leave the room, maybe, to get away from this place, but his brother’s heavy voice stops him.

“God, Al,” and Edward’s pupils are dilating in front of him as he stares at Al shamelessly, a hungry, needy gaze.

Al still can’t stop the motions – _brother can’t be getting off on this, can he?_ But he isn’t, of course he isn’t; he’s merely happy that Al can do this sort of thing, happy that Al has his body back.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed. Everyone goes through this, Al,” Edward says, words sounding oddly insincere, as he steps closer. “It’s just coming a little later for you because of how long your body was gone.”

Al nods, though the words are empty in his mind. He closes his eyes again so that he doesn’t have to take notice of the way his brother is gazing at him, as if he is seeing something inside of Al that he has never seen in himself.

“Listen,” Ed says, leaning down to speak directly into Al’s ear, voice a raspy whisper, “I owe you one.” Then, softer, “It feels a lot better when someone else touches you.”

And suddenly his brother’s hands are trailing down his chest, and a new surge of warmth is shooting through his groin. When those hands pause, lingering at his stomach, he can’t stop from crying out for longing of them. And before he knows what it is he is doing Alphonse has pulled them downward and they’re touching him all too eagerly, and this feels so amazing it almost hurts, a needle-like pain. His brother is gasping for breath, leaving sloppy kisses along his neck, and there’s something hard pressing against him and it nags at him for a second that Edward is enjoying this far too much, but then his brother crouches down between his legs and Al doesn’t have time to think anymore.

“You’ve missed out on so much,” Edward sighs, between heavy breaths. “So much, Al. It’s the least I can do –”

And then, without warning, there’s something wet enveloping his cock, and Al moans, “Winry,” Winry sliding off her pants and thrusting her hips into his, a slick wet warmth, his brother’s tongue sweeping against him, licking. It’s so easy to pretend that this is Winry and not his brother, and yet so hard to forget, my penis is inside my brother’s mouth and he’s enjoying it, and the thought makes Al lose his balance momentarily, falling back onto the closed toilet seat, and the porcelain jabs into his shoulder, piercing him back into reality.

Edward coughs a little, shifting his position – and Al regrets that he flung his eyes open as he fell, because his brother’s hand is inside his own pants, thrusting, and there is no way this could mean anything but that his brother wants this, and this thought scares him so much that he almost pushes Edward away. But if he was to push Edward away, then this euphoria, this touch, would leave him, too, and if he is pushing his brother away he is clinging to the feeling even more desperately.

Maybe it isn’t so bad, having a brother who loves him.

And then Edward groans, making his mouth vibrate ecstatically, and Al squeezes his eyes shut until it’s over, silently cursing himself for enjoying this, for seeking out this suffocating touch.

“Al,” a silken, needy, voice. “Al, please.”

And Alphonse opens his eyes and looks at the creature who was once his brother, yellow eyes imploring him, face shaking, with Al’s white semen dripping from his mouth.

He covers his eyes, and pretends he doesn’t see.


End file.
